


O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019 [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Tree, F/M, Foreplay, history lecture, the Doctor likes to teach and Rose likes to listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: Rose decides she wants a real Christmas tree for the TARDIS library; the Doctor agrees, giving her a history lesson in the process and earning himself quite the treat.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560049
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47
Collections: 31 Days of Ficmas 2019





	O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

“Hello, my love,” Rose greeted her husband, slipping her arms around his waist and molding herself to his back.

He was, for once, in the console room, reviewing maintenance reports on the monitor. Long gone were the days of constant work on the ship, for several reasons; one, the Time War had been over a thousand years ago now, the TARDIS more or less running at full capacity and no longer requiring timely fixes. Second, he no longer needed to use the work as an excuse to avoid spending downtime alone with her.

“What do you want?”

When he first regenerated from wide-eyed and floppy-haired to ‘attack eyebrows’, he had been concerned about the gruff bark many words came out as now. On the contrary, the deeper tone and sharp tongue were working for her – _really_ working for her.

“Can’t a woman hug her bloke just to hug him?” she countered, pressing her lips between his shoulder blades. “Why must I want something?”

He turned in her arms, piercing blue eyes gazing skeptically down at her. “You really think I don’t know you by now?”

They had a brief stare-off, before Rose reluctantly smiled. “Okay, fine.”

He smirked.

“I want to get a tree for the library.”

“We… have a forest?”

She nodded, doing her best to look serious. “I know but, I want that _experience_. Picking a tree, cutting it down, bringing it home… we always had a fake one because it was cheaper, and-” cutting herself off she shrugged self-consciously. “Please?”

The Doctor grimaced. “You want _me_ to cut down a tree?”

“Please?” When her pleading eyes didn’t convince him she pulled out her secret weapon, giving him that brilliant smile he loved so much, the one where just the tip of her tongue peeked out and made his brain shut down in favor of its baser instincts.

He heaved a sigh. “Oh, fine.”

“Brilliant!” Leaning away from him she flipped the lever that sent them flying towards their destination.

“You already had coordinates programed?”

Rose grinned, moving her arms up around his neck. “Yep.”

“Pretty confident I’d agree then, weren’t you?”

She licked her lips, watching as his gaze narrowed on her mouth. _He’s too easy_. “Oh, you were going to agree,” she said confidently, “I had a variety of methods up my sleeve to persuade you.”

The Doctor’s expression fell. “Well, hang on,” he protested, “if you put energy into your plans, don’t let my quick agreement burst your bubble. Look, I’ve changed my mind, we can’t go. You’ll have to change it back.”

They landed then, and Rose laughed as she broke away, heading for the doors. “Wouldn’t you rather save that as a reward?” she winked over her shoulder, pulling on her coat. “C’mon, I promise to make it worth your while.”

And she stepped out into the forest, breathing deeply of the crisp mountain air, thinking of the old song.

_O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, How lovely are thy branches..._

* * *

“D’you know the origin of Christmas trees?” the Doctor asked, as they strolled the forest hand in hand. They’d landed in a small clearing, not much bigger than the ship itself, and were wandering around in search of the perfect tree.

“No, but I suspect I’m about to,” she teased, throwing her husband a smile.

He cleared his throat. “Evergreens have always had a place in humanity’s heart,” he started in his _professor_ voice. “Due to the structure of Earth and it’s relative location to the sun, nearly every civilization had periods of ‘summer’ and ‘winter’, if you define them by quantity of sunlight. Because they never lost their color when other plants did, evergreens were considered lucky, if not magical, capable of warding off illness, evil spirits, witches, and the like. They also served as reminders that the sun would return, and other flora and fauna would eventually regain their color.”

“What about trees themselves, as we know them today?” she asked, ignoring the scenery in favor of watching her husband’s expressions – for as impatient as he could be with the willfully uneducated, he loved nothing more than imparting wisdom and knowledge. He shined when teaching, a lightness to his expression and countenance few other things in live could replicate to such a degree.

“Ah,” he said, “that wasn’t until sometime in the 16th century, and mostly in Germany. They were the first to actually cut down a tree and bring it inside. It’s said that Martin Luther was the first to put candles on it, in an attempt to replicate starlight twinkling amongst the forest.”

Rose nodded, seeing her surroundings in a new light. “We should stay until it’s dark,” she said idly, “and see if he’s right.”

“As you wish.” They shared a smile. “Anyway, it’s all well and good, a few rural Germans bringing trees inside. _But how_ , you might be wondering, _did the practice spread so far and wide?_ Well, I’ll tell you.”

“Please.”

He dropped her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “So, 1840, Queen Victoria of England marries her cousin Albert, a German prince. Six years and five children later, a sketch of them appears in the Illustrated London News, with their children – and a Christmas tree. Given her popularity, whatever the Queen did was immediately in demand, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Wow.” Rose tried to picture the stuffy Queen she’d met smiling in front of a Christmas tree. “Hard to believe she’d have that much effect, really.”

“Who, Vicky? Nah, she influenced much of life in your native time, from how babies are born to what women wear on their wedding day.”

“Plus, I’m sure she was happier and, well, _nicer_ , when she was still married.”

The Doctor’s grip on her tightened. “To lose your beloved so soon, and to have to go on for so long after without them… It’s a sad fate, and no count of subjects or acreage or titles fills that void. Not even for the Queen of England.”

Rose tilted her head, nestling it against his shoulder. “Let’s pick a tree,” she changed the subject, looking up to find him still frowning. “Oi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He glanced around, before pointing to one. “What d’you think of that?”

“Oooh!”

* * *

 _I love Time Lord physics_ , Rose thought, pushing the tree as the Doctor pulled. He had a sled in his pockets, one large enough carrying the tree. They just had to keep the ends up off the ground, and it hadn’t taken too long to cut it down and get it on the sled. _Not to mention Time Lord physiques._

Though it hadn’t been too complicated, he’d worked up a sweat lying under the tree sawing through the trunk, and his jacket and hoodie were both thrown carelessly on top of the tree. Rose was hot as well, but not from physical exertion. She’d volunteered to do the pushing for a reason, and was more focused on the movement of muscles beneath his tee than their cargo.

“All right back there?” he called just as they reached the TARDIS, and it took effort to pull her mind from the gutter.

“Yep!”

It took hardly any effort at all to get the tree into the ship, who had obligingly made a ramp leading almost immediately into the library, where a harness exactly the size of the tree was waiting to stand it up straight.

“Can I just say,” Rose sighed as they flopped down on the sofa once it was upright and steady, “how _much_ I love this ship? I mean, really. In ninety minutes we did what would take a crew of people most of the _day_. I love this life.”

The Doctor laughed softly. “So do I,” he murmured, “and it’s better shared with you. More than I ever knew was possible.” He turned to face her, a happy little smile on his face. “I’m so glad I met you.”

She giggled at the familiar words, as true now as they were a millennia ago when they first said them, on a damp basement morgue on Christmas Eve. “Me too.” And then she stood up, but before he could do anything more than blink and furrow his brow, she settled across his lap, her thighs bracketing his. “So, so glad.”

Leaning in she kissed him slowly, savoring the taste of him. She never tired of kissed this man, never grew bored with the familiarity of his hands on her hips, in her hair, on her skin. Even when his body changed the way he touched her, caressed her, _worshipped_ her didn’t, was as familiar and instinctual as breathing by now.

“Off,” he grunted, tugging at her jumper, and she leaned back, arching her spine as she pulled it off in one smooth motion, revealing lace-clad cleavage that had him groaning. “Beautiful.”

“You too,” she nodded towards his tee, “tat for tit.” She smirked at her pun, undoing her bra clasp but holding the garment in place until he was barechested. Leaning into him again she rocked her hips against his, biting her lower lip to hold back a groan as the seam of her jeans pressed into her so deliciously. “I want to climb you like a tree,” she muttered, sucking at his lower lip, only to shriek in surprise and delight when he shifted to lay on the couch.

“I could only think of one thing lying under that tree,” he rasped, hands massaging her breasts as she rocked over him, “just a minor tweak that would’ve made the moment perfect.”

A lascivious smile spread across Rose’s face, and she raised up onto her knees to make a show of undoing the button on her jeans. “Oh? And what would that’ve been?”

Her husband’s gaze was laser-focused on her hands, but he smiled anyway. “I think you know.”

She did.


End file.
